Numbers and Letters
by Little Miss Beatlemaniac
Summary: Elliott Gilbert hates Calculus class out of all the ones he takes at NYU. But will a certain friend of his potentially make it less unbearable? Based on what I felt during my Algebra test. (Warning: contains Kelliott. Rated T for swearing, but that's about it.


**A/N: Oh, God – ****_please _****don't hate me for this. Ever since the end of the fifth season, I couldn't help but think that Kurt and Blaine had an unhealthy relationship. I shipped them in the first few seasons, but now they argue in, like, every episode. Anyways, then Elliott came into the picture and I found out how much he is literally perfect for Kurt. He's more laid-back and wise; I like those types. Thus, I now ship Kelliott. The selfie part was freaking adorable even though I don't like selfies. :-) Seriously, I've never taken one before.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the adorable Kurt Hummel and Mr. Elliott Gilbert.**

**(Third-Person P.O.V.)**

Elliott Gilbert entered math class with a heavy amount of dread and anxiety. It was bad enough that he forgot to take his glasses to NYU. Now he was blind as a bat and sitting in Calculus, his least favorite class of them all. He didn't understand what was so important about slopes and y-intercepts anyway. Those were only useful for money. Hell, he didn't even get why _Calculus _was so important. He was a rock diva, not a mechanical engineer, dammit!

Elliott was in a bad mood and he feared that if anybody talked to him directly, he would just snap and have an ugly meltdown. He'd never had one before and wasn't planning on starting that day. Just imagine the look on his face when he remembered that there was a math test that morning.

**Oh, **_**shite**_**, **he thought, his guylined eyes widening in fear, **I'm **_**so**_**dead! **The professor, Mr. Stackhouse, announced,

"Alright, class! When you finish this test, please hand it to the front of the room on my desk. You've had since last Friday to study so on my estimation, this will take you forty minutes each."

**Yeah – unless you're like **_**me, **_Elliott thought bitterly, though he knew it wasn't the teacher's fault. It took him more than an hour to complete twenty-minute math homework, so who _knew _how long this dreadful test would take to complete.

The young singer rubbed his tired eyes and groaned once he received the test handed out by Mr. Stackhouse. As a result of forgetting his glasses, he began to get a headache. It was even worse, just staring at all the numbers and letters that seemed to blur together as one dark smudge. He squinted and brought the paper up to his face, clearly hoping he would be able to see it better. He could just barely make out the equation:

"1.) Write an equation for slope-intercept form for the line that has an unidentified slope and passes through (-6, 4)."

Elliott could feel his right eye beginning to twitch.

"2.) PA, PB, and PC are tangents. One circle has radius 4; the other has radius 2. How are PA, PB, and PC related?"

Elliott's left eye twitched as well. It got worse from there.

"3.) You are running a concession stand at the basketball game. You sell hot dogs for $1 and sodas for $0.50. At the end of the night you made $200. Let x represent the number of hot dogs sold and y represent the number of sodas sold. Write an equation that can be used to find out how many hot dogs and sodas were sold."

Elliott groaned silently and ran his fingers through his hair, nearly threatening to pull it out.

"4.) If x = $20 + (15% * 20), what is x equal to?"

"What the f – but it already says 'x' is equal to -" Elliott sputtered to himself. None of this made any sense.

"5.) Since 1999, the number of music cassettes sold has decreased by an average rate of 27 million per year. There were 124 million music cassettes sold in 1999. There were 16 million cassettes sold in 2003. Write a linear equation to find the average number of music cassettes sold in any year after 1999."

"You're fricking _kidding_ me," Elliott moaned, hiding his eyes in his hands. All around him, students were completing their tests. He had just barely started his and yet they were cruising right through it. Even the most clueless of the football-players, Jackson Smith, completed his test right away. There was a kid who sat next to Elliott. His name was Anthony Johnson and he had a knack for doing things speedily and messily and still getting credit for them.

Elliott felt frustrated for being placed next to a smart guy like Anthony who not only completed his test already, but also did his homework. The professor was surprised to see that Anthony already handed in his test.

"Anthony, are you sure you want to hand this in without double-checking it? It might help to get a better grade," he warned.

"No, I'm sure I got them all right," Anthony answered in a cocky, self-righteous way. Elliott's lip trembled. None of it was fair. Why was it that he had to work four times harder than everybody to complete something and everybody else just got stuff spoon-fed to them? Normally Elliott was the reliable, positive person who answered these types of questions with a reassuring smile, but today he was losing his mind and revealing his inner-Elliott to the world. And all because of some evil math test.

"Not fair, not fair, not fair, not fair," he chanted under his breath, his face growing hot with anger and humiliation as everyone around him continued to hand in their math tests. His vision went underwater as small tears formed in his eyes, threatening to spill over. His fingers were carded violently through his hair and his forehead furrowed with his eyebrows.

"Mr. Gilbert, are you going to finish that test soon? You don't have much time, you know," Mr. Stackhouse pointed out.

...That did it. Next thing everybody knew, Elliott went full-out crazy.

"N-No! I CAN'T DO IT!" he shouted deafeningly, getting up from his desk and running out the classroom door. Everybody looked surprised: normally Elliott was the calm, collected guy of the class, not the emotional basket-case he was now. Mr. Stackhouse got up and went after the distressed man who was now sobbing and shaking uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Kurt Hummel had just finished dance class and was on his way to the performing arts room. His phone began to vibrate, indicating that somebody was calling him.

**Probably Blaine, wondering which tie to wear to school today, **he thought with amusement. It was tough for Blaine when they broke-off their engagement at first, but now they were the best of friends and he would advise Kurt if he needed it. Kurt, in turn, respected and advised him. They just weren't meant for each other after all, but that didn't mean they could exclude each other from their lives forever.

Kurt was surprised to find that it was not Blaine, but the voice of a middle-aged man he still recognized nevertheless.

"Hey, Mr. Stackhouse! How's your wife's project going at Vogue?" he greeted cheerfully.

"I-It's good. But that's not why I've called," said the man on the other line. He sounded a bit concerned, causing Kurt to raise an eyebrow in question.

"Oh? What is it, then?" he asked.

"Your friend Elliott seems to be having a bit of a nervous breakdown, but he won't really tell us why," he explained. Sure enough, Kurt heard the worried voices of adults filling the corridors and loud wailing. "He doesn't trust any of us. After all, nobody knows him like you do. That being said, you don't mind if-?" The teacher needed no further reason to explain; Kurt heard enough already.

Now the younger man was a little irritated that he had to skip theater class to take a subway all the way to the NYU campus, but he was more-than-willing to help his friend. Because that's what Kurt Hummel was all about.

"I'm on my way," he promised, shortly before hanging up and departing from the building.

Once Kurt got to NYU and reached the third floor of the building, he found the corridor where Elliott sat, hunched against the wall and crying his eyes out. Kurt watched with sympathy for a second before crouching down in front of the man and slowly placing a hand on a quivering shoulder.

"Elliott? Elliott, it's me," he crooned.

"Don't look at me, I'm a _failure_! Can't you _see _that?! I don't want you to look at me!" he sniveled. Kurt reached out to him once again.

"Elliott-"

"No!" Elliott interrupted, folding his arms up to his chest and turning away. Kurt frowned: this was getting a little annoying.

"Elliott Gilbert, we are going to talk about this and we're going to do it like adults! Like the adult I _know_ you are even though you sure as hell aren't _acting_ like one right now!" Kurt scolded. This caused the other man to come to his senses a bit. He rubbed his eyes, which were already blackened by the running mascara.

"God, you're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me," he admitted bashfully. Kurt looked at him as the tears continued to pour down and caught his eye.

"Hey, hey – it's okay. That's why I'm here. I didn't take a God-damn subway for _nothing_," he whispered reassuringly. Elliott chuckled weakly, grateful for the lightened humor brought to the situation. Kurt noticed this caused more tears to fall and that the poor man was just so sad. He took both of his hands and stroked them comfortingly with his thumbs. "So go on, then. What happened?" he asked coaxingly.

"Well, I was in Calculus class and we had to take a test and then – I dunno, I just sorta freaked out, you know?"

"Over a _test_? But _why_?" Kurt asked. This was the hardest part for Elliott to say.

"I-I don't have a great history with math, Kurt. When I was a child, I didn't understand it much. I had to be put in the 'special kid group'. Everybody..._laughed_ at me. Whenever I had to do a math problem up on the board, I felt like throwing up. I still don't understand it now and it _scares_ me. I don't like not knowing stuff." Kurt's eyes gleamed with a mutual understanding: it was like a connection had been made in a whole new way.

"_Nobody _does. _I_ certainly don't. So you had a rough start," Kurt argued gently, lifting one of his hands to brush some makeup-stained tears off the rock diva's face. "But that doesn't mean it's _impossible_. I mean, come on. This is _New York_, for cripe's sake, the 'city where dreams come true'. Including yours. You helped me to reach my dream by helping me overcome major obstacles. Now it's time I returned the favor," he whispered softly.

Elliott smiled warmly and pulled his friend in for a hug. Kurt gladly accepted and wrapped his arms around the older man. He rubbed Elliott's back in small, comforting circles and Elliott buried his head in the crook of his neck.

"Meet me at my apartment after school for math lessons," Kurt whispered into his ear. Elliott nodded. Tears cascaded down his face as he confessed,

"God, I love you so much."

"You're welcome," Kurt teased, giving him a light peck on the forehead. They asked for permission from the math teacher to retake the test on Monday. Mr. Stackhouse gladly accepted. In just three days, Elliott was able to learn a lot from Kurt and occasionally Blaine, whenever he stopped by to visit. Together, Kurt and Elliott bonded over numbers and letters, their love growing stronger every equation they solved.

Once Elliott had a solid grasp on what he had learnt, he took the test on Monday. This time, everything made a lot more sense. He zipped throught the test almost as speedily as Anthony, the only difference being that he stopped to double-check his work. When he got the results back, he fled to Kurt's apartment, burst the door open, and ran in, crying,

"Kurt! _Kurt_! Guess what I got?!" Kurt laughed at the older man who began jumping on the couch like a hyper toddler.

"What? What did you get?" he asked, in-between laughs. Half of Elliott's face was covered by a grin.

"An 'A-'! I would've gotten a 'B+', but I answered the bonus question correctly!"

"Oh, Elliott, that's _wonderful_!" Kurt declared happily.

"And I couldn't have done it without you! You're the best math teacher ever!" Elliott chuckled, moving in to squeeze the air out of Kurt.

"Oh, and Elliott? There's something else I should tell you."

"What is it?" Kurt tipped Elliott's chin upwards with his middle and index fingers before saying,

"I love you too." With that, the two men leaned forward for the first kiss of many they would share.


End file.
